


Indulge Me

by youwilllovemylaugh



Series: you caught me off guard [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Chubby Kink, Diners, Eating Kink, F/M, Weight Gain, motorcycle riding, sly glances and other such things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 21:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwilllovemylaugh/pseuds/youwilllovemylaugh
Summary: They walked into Pop’s, took their usual booth by the windows after greeting Pop behind the counter. The place was empty, and still hadn’t managed to up the way it used to before the shooting, but Betty felt a strong, stubborn conviction to make it survive with all she had, every time she’d walked in since the benefit she and Veronica had staged.“You kids want the usual?” Pop asked from across the dining room.Betty looked at Jughead, who was already staring at her. The pang of loneliness hit her again, and she felt something else beneath it, something telling her that, now, she had to start leaving an impression. Making memories count, since they were so few and far between.“Yeah,” Betty said at last. “But double the milkshakes, please.”





	1. Chapter 1

As soon as she wrapped her arms around his middle, she realized what she was in for.

Jughead tossed her a sidelong glance before he revved the engine and they tore out of the parking lot -- he knew what he was doing, Betty thought. The wind whipped her hair around and made it hard to see, but she carefully inched her hands farther and farther around Jughead’s waist, under his jacket -- she could almost reach around and cup her own elbows, she realized with an ounce of dismay. But there was something still very soft about him, something that was begging to be softened further, grown and nurtured and swollen up. She felt the same tiny little paunch she’d found on him that day with the Oreos, except this time it was less heavy, less full of cookies.

She’d have to fix that.

They’d had plans to meet at Pop’s after school, since Jughead had started going to Southside High, now. In a blur of cold wind and loud engine noises, they skidded into the parking lot, and then he was twisting around in her grip, smiling at her.

“Do you like something you feel there?” he asked.

She opened her eyes, and then, a flight of daring soaring through her, she squeezed that little paunch in the palm of her hand, and felt Jughead inhale sharply where her face was pressed against the back of his shearling coat.

She missed seeing him every day, but the last few weeks had been worse than she’d ever imagined it being. Even though she’d spent most of her freshman year alone, busier than everyone else; even though she’d had Archie here and there, and Kevin; even though now she had several people to talk to over the course of the day, there was something particularly lonely about these last few weeks now that Jughead was gone.

“Come on,” he said, reaching under his coat to squeeze her hand in return.

They walked into Pop’s, took their usual booth by the windows after greeting Pop behind the counter. The place was empty, and still hadn’t managed to up the way it used to before the shooting, but Betty felt a strong, stubborn conviction to make it survive with all she had, every time she’d walked in since the benefit she and Veronica had staged.

“You kids want the usual?” Pop asked from across the dining room.

Betty looked at Jughead, who was already staring at her. The pang of loneliness hit her again, and she felt something else beneath it, something telling her that, now, she had to start leaving an impression. Making memories count, since they were so few and far between.

“Yeah,” Betty said at last. “But double the milkshakes, please.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow, tried to bite on his smile. “I knew it.”

“You knew what?”

“That you’d try and do something slick here,” he said, without an ounce of malice in his voice. “After the Oreos incident.”

“Incident?”

He’d kept hold of her hand after they sat down, on opposite sides of the booth, and now he unfolded their fingers so he could play with hers. “What else would you call it?”

She shrugged. “We were just watching _Jaws_.”

He laughed. “Were we, though?”

She tried to read his expression for anger, or for annoyance, but really there just seemed to be a modicum of curiosity beneath his usual careful, toying demeanor. He was so pretty when he looked at her the way he was now, head tilted forward, gazing at her through his eyelashes, lips twitched to one side in a smirk.

“Maybe we weren’t,” she said at last, leaning forward. “Maybe … I was trying to see how much you could eat before you couldn’t anymore.”

He stilled a bit, from his breathing to the fidgeting he was doing with her fingers. Then his eyes trailed upwards from their hands to gaze at her.

“Indulge me,” she said, half for something to say, half because she wasn’t sure if she’d been clear enough in her intentions.

The food came, quickly as always.

“You enjoy now,” Pop said, giving them each a hearty smile before returning to the kitchen.

Jughead called his thanks after Pop, and then eyed Betty again. His eyebrow had achieved a truly magnificent arch -- Betty had to fight the smile that was creeping on her lips. She watched him pull his plate close and then snag two of the milkshakes as well.

“You're in for it, Betty Cooper,” he said, the curl of his mouth turning just the slightest bit wicked.

It was that smile that always did Betty in, but this time it seemed even more teasing, even more unbearably enticing than it usually did.

She could barely keep her attention on her own plate while he ate -- it was like he’d hypnotized her away from it. Jughead, like most of the other boys in their class, was only just coming into his shoulders and his hips. He was slight, but in a way that Betty knew had more to do with a recent growth spurt than anything else. Like a puppy growing into his paws, Betty thought that maybe Jughead had a bit more growing to do than most.

He ate like it too. He took a huge first bite of his burger, one that, even by itself, made Betty blush and nearly look away. He kept smug eye contact with her as he chewed, that mischievous and unforgiving eyebrow cocked like it wasn’t ever she who’d dared him to do something stupid -- it was he all along.

She picked up her cheeseburger, in an attempt not to be totally conspicuous, and took a bite. She chewed slowly as she watched him devour the whole thing: two patties, pickles, three slices of cheddar cheese, fried onions, tomatoes, lettuce, the brioche bun. A crescent of ketchup adorned the corner of his mouth and it was all Betty could do not to lean across the table, plates be damned, and kiss it off his face.

There was a heap of waffle fries and a secondary heap of onion rings on the plate beside his burger, and Betty took a second bite of her burger as Jughead began eating two and three fries at a time. Pop was known around Rockland County for his steak cut fries, how each order was like eating two whole potatoes in one sitting. Betty bit the inside of her lip thinking about how vehemently her mother had advised her against ordering fries in her youth, thinking about what that meant when it came to watching Jughead eat.

He’d scarfed them in a matter of minutes, and then, perhaps for a break between them and the onion rings, started working on the milkshake. He’d only momentarily broken their eye contact while he was eating, something Betty found both highly intimidating and extremely hot.

She took a sip of her milkshake when she cleared her throat and found it dry. Then she licked her lips and cast her gaze back at Jughead. “How are you feeling?”

When he pulled his lips from the straw, there was a smudge of chocolate on the lower one, and it sent Betty’s stomach to flip-flopping. The temptation to leap across the table rejoined itself.

“Pretty good so far,” Jughead replied at last. He took another long sip from the milkshake and then said, with a hint of shyness in his voice, “I like watching you watch me.”

“Hm?” Betty said, her voice thin and high. If she’d heard him right --

He smiled that bashful smile she’d only seen a handful of times. “I said I like watching you watch me,” he repeated.

She had heard him right. “Oh,” was all she managed. “Well.”

Jughead chuckled. “I’ll take that to mean that you’re also having a good time?”

She nodded. His smile widened, and then he folded two onion rings in half and shoved them in his mouth.

“Who knew you could be such a glutton?” Betty found herself saying. She was a bit surprised at the words -- they didn’t sound like they were coming from her. But there they were, lingering in the middle distance between them, and when she and Jughead met eyes once more, their gazes set those words ablaze.

“I think that’s the funny part,” he said. “This isn’t all that much different from my usual order.” He sucked down the final remains of his milkshake, the straw echoing in the glass in an obnoxious, braggy sort of way. “It’s mostly just your perception of it that changed.”

“You think so?” she replied.

He nodded, reaching for the second milkshake, a strawberry one.

She considered it. “I think it was because you told me that you actually _choose_ to eat this way.”

“Interesting.”

“Like, you’re not eating this way out of habit or because you have to. You’re doing it because you want to,” she continued. The thread of logic felt nebulous in her mind, but she tried to grasp it tight enough to see it through. “You just eat like this because --”

“Well, really, it’s because I’m hungry, Betty,” he said, and as if he were adding emphasis to the statement, he shoved another few onion rings into his mouth. They looked like they were getting damp from the grease and the steam, and Betty ogled the faint shine they left on his mouth. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I eat when I’m stressed.”

“Is it bad that I want to stress you out more, then?” she asked. There was a brief, tense moment, and then they both laughed. He turned back to his food.

“I wouldn’t like that,” he said, between bites. “But … I could be cajoled into eating more … on a more regular basis.”

This time, when he looked up at her, even his shoulders seemed to house some of that bashfulness.

Betty’s heart melted a little bit. “Could you?”

He rolled his shoulders a little, and just like that, he was back into his usual Jughead self, casual, a little standoffish, all that softness buried under leather and malcontent. The transformation left Betty a little breathless. “Yeah, I think so.”

She smiled at him.

He ate another few onion rings. “I kind of liked having you on top of me, like that, the other day,” he said, stumbling through the words like they were hard to say out loud.

Betty knew. They were a little hard to hear, too, as real words instead of just the ones she bounced around in her head at night when she couldn’t sleep. She felt her chest tighten as he said them.

“And I liked feeling your … your hands on me,” he said, leaning back a bit in the booth. When he looked at her again, there was a fierceness in them that Betty had only seen there a handful of times before.

“Good,” she said. “I plan to keep putting them on you.”

He twitched his eyebrows at her again, and for the first time, she saw something like sleepiness behind his eyelashes.

“Are you getting tired, Juggy?” she asked, sliding her plate away from herself, closer to him, so she could rest her elbows on the table.

He shrugged. “I’m gonna finish, if that’s what you’re asking.”

And finish he did. But by the time his straw made those same echoing noises it had before, Betty could see there was something like sleepiness setting in behind his eyes.

He leaned back in the booth when it seemed he was satisfied with the milkshake, and Betty had bit her lip as he sighed and let his hands fall on his belly.

“Now I’m a little tired, I will admit,” he said, peering at her from between his long eyelashes.

“I can see,” she said. “Why don’t I go pay Pop for our food, and you and I get out of here?” She leaned forward a bit. “Find a nice, cozy spot for the two of us to share?”

She got up, and he grabbed her hand as she passed him. “Only if it somewhere I can kiss you properly,” he said, and pulled her close. She smiled as his lips met hers, and then she pulled away again to pay.

They’d come to Pop’s by motorcycle, and it seemed, on second thought, that maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas. When Betty left the restaurant, she found Jughead already sitting on the bike, his face almost in a grimace. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked uncomfortable, having to sit and lean forward to reach the handlebars.

“You look good on there, Jug,” she said, stopping a few feet away to admire him. Beneath his jacket, over the ever-present flannel tied around his hips, Betty saw a roll of fat pushing at his shirt in a way she knew she couldn’t be imagining.

A belly, maybe, Betty let herself think. Or maybe just the auspicious start of one.

Jughead flexed his grip on the handles and grinned. “You think so?”

She advanced, put her hand on his shoulder, and he took her waist in his hands. She liked looking down at him for once, getting to see his eyes from a different angle. She liked thinking that maybe he looked a little less devilish when she was up here, like maybe looking up at her, she was the one who held the power.

“I do,” she said. She kissed him, long and deep and wanting. She slid her hands inside his jacket, around his waist, felt him inhale sharply as she pressed her palms against his soft sides.

“Let’s get home first, Betty, hm?” he said, his eyes gaining back some of their usual sultry, imploring look. “Before you devour me in the streets?’

She smiled and wrinkled her brow at him, maybe a little embarrassed, maybe totally into it and not caring who else around Pop’s might see her and think too hard. “My mom’s out again,” she said. “We can go to my place?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Just as long as you leave the bike around the corner,” she said. He rolled his eyes, but nodded, and with another kiss, she hopped on the back of the bike. Jughead took off in the direction of her house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so while this is technically finished, i'm anticipating a part 3...however, i'm embarking on nanowrimo in T-minus 2 hours, so i'm afraid it will have to wait until december. stay tuned y'all & thanks for reading!

He was winded when they arrived at her house. And he was winded as she led the way up the stairs to her bedroom.

He was still breathing hard when she tossed him onto her bed, shut the door, and climbed up on top of him.

“You look cute when your belly’s heaving like that,” she said, quietly, climbing on top of him. His hands fell on her hips, and she stared at him from her place on high, smiling sweetly at him as he continued to catch his breath. “Are you too full, Jug?” she asked, letting her hands migrate from his shoulders to his sides, where she slid her fingers carefully, slowly under the hem of his T-shirt.

She smiled as she heard his breath hitch. “Are my hands too cold, or do you just like that?” she asked, using what she had of her fingernails to gently tickle his sides, the parts of him just above his hips that his jeans had let loose. 

He sighed, and she wished he’d done it into her mouth. “I like it,” he said. “And I like you from this angle.” His hands moved to her sides, and then her ass, and he pulled her toward his face.

“Good,” she said, to both things, before pushing off the shoulders of his jacket, and rucking up his shirt over his belly.

He looked bigger. Or maybe she wanted him to -- she couldn’t quite tell. He was certainly full; she could hear all the little digestive noises his tummy was making. His skin was beautiful, little moles dotting the perfect skin of his chest, a little happy trail running from his belly button down past the waistband of his boxer briefs, which she could just see underneath the waistband of his jeans. 

She let her hands scope the landscape of him first. It was still such a thrill to touch anyone like this, to touch  _ him _ like this, that she felt breathless herself if she thought about it too much outside of when it was actually happening. When she looked into his eyes, she found something in them that made her feel exposed, in a good way, but one that still felt dangerously uncovered. He knew her -- he knew who she was, in ways that maybe no one else did, or would. And he wanted to know her still, was hungry for it, if she could trust the look in his eyes.

She wanted to grab him in her hands like she had the last time they’d done this, but, she thought, he might be too full for that. Under all that hunger, that wanting, Jughead’s eyes were sleepy the way she’d seen people’s get at the end of Thanksgiving Day, and she figured it might not be the best thing to push him too far.

Instead, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his belly, a couple inches above his belly button. She shimmied her hips out of his grasp and trailed the kisses down toward the waistband of his jeans, the smell of his leather belt and the wind from outside and the soap that he used all still fresh on him. 

At the same time, she slid her hands up his sides and over, onto his middle, then back to his sides, where she pushed up what she could of the chub she’d noticed lingering there. 

Jughead sighed a little as she did this, and the sound was so nice to her ears. She smiled to herself as she felt him shudder underneath her. It wasn’t so hard to make Jughead moan, or to make him look at her that way, but she took a special thrill in making him shudder -- it only ever happened when she’d been successful enough to get him to stop thinking about everything else that plagued him, all that tedious ennui and all his romantic notions of dread. She’d gotten him to let go a little, to be more with her and less with his thoughts.

She leaned up then, and as she did so, Jughead’s hands reached for her, wanting. It was hard to feel wanted in the Cooper household -- after everything with Polly, and her parents’ marriage falling apart before her eyes, and her mother’s incessant criticism, Betty so often wished she could disappear. But when Jughead was around, that feeling dimmed for her, too. 

Maybe that was why, she thought as she lay next to him, letting her mouth fall open against his, she got to him the way she did. It wasn’t easy being Jughead, either, his father in jail and his mother living in another state, seemingly unaffected. Betty took pride, she thought, as he pulled her shirt over her head, and helped her take his own off too, in being the one person in town who still made him feel like he belonged.

They lay there a while, kissing and groping and sighing, Jughead inching up Betty’s shirt until their skin was touching, his hand on the small of her back and hers on his hip, then his ass, then around his back, pulling him as close to her as she could manage.

“I like you soft, like this,” she said to him, when they pulled away.

“Soft?” 

“Like this,” she said, and squeezed a handful of chub where she could. “And soft like this,” she added, kissing him carefully and gently, breathing into him all the thoughts and hopes and loves she had for him when he was like this, quiet and loving and not brooding so much, only enough for her to remember who he was, why he loved her.

“I can be soft for you, Betty Cooper,” he said, but it was more of a whisper, a quiet reassurance that he allowed himself as he stroked her hair. He leaned into her, hips pressing against hers. “I’ll  _ get _ soft for you, Betty Cooper,” he said, a little wry twinkle in his eye that made Betty’s heart leap.

“I’m gonna make you soft, Jughead Jones,” she said. “Very, very soft.”

It was a promise. Jughead pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then her nose, and then her mouth. 

“But first, let’s nap?” he said. “I’m a little tired.”

Betty giggled. “Okay, Jug.” He nuzzled against her, and she pulled him close, and then, grateful she remembered to lock her bedroom door when they’d gotten home. 


End file.
